Follow My Leader

It was another rather surreal moment. Jacqui said to be at the church in Manzac-sur-Vern at 2 p.m.

As I pulled up outside what Sally Satnav said was the right place, I glanced in the mirror and there she was, sauntering along the road towards me.

Over three thousand miles later and we were together again, in a tiny French village in the Dordogne.

Her Uncle Ken and his wife are like a pair of septuagenarian hippies, doing their thing in France. They have a charming old farmhouse, some geese (seen here fleeing the paparazzo, me!), hens, a dog, loads of fish and a couple of Mercs older than I am. Not to mention the gorgeous old red sports car, the make of which I cannot remember.

So it's time for a brief respite from the driving, a chance for His Nibs to brush up on his French, and then it's homeward bound tomorrow.